


Blanket Burrito Bucky

by SunnySinclair



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Caring friends, Gen, Sickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 07:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18545410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnySinclair/pseuds/SunnySinclair
Summary: Bucky's got a superbug. Of course he does, he's a supersoldier. He's kind of a super grump when he's sick too.





	Blanket Burrito Bucky

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fill for my centre, author's choice square for the Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019. Not what I planned on writing first, but poor flu-ridden Bucky demanded caring for before acknowledging any prompt squares.

“Man, isn’t that serum shit supposed to stop this kind of thing?” Sam muttered, picking up a cushion and tossing it at the very bulky blanket burrito that was one Bucky Barnes. The very bulky blanket burrito Bucky Barnes who was sniffing loudly and curling up with a harsh coughing fit every few minutes.

From the small hole of blanket around his face, he shot Sam a dirty look.

It was kind of ruined by the dribble of snot running out of his very red nose.

“But then I guess that’s what you get when you go for the knockoff version right? Buy shit, get shit.” Sam smirked at him and dodged the returning cushion that was aimed for his face.

“Bruce reckons it’s some kind of new superbug,” Steve interjected with a sigh at the pair. “Something about his system never being exposed before so there were no antibodies for the serum to improve.” He gave a shrug because, honestly, the science of it was beyond him. And didn’t explain why Bucky was suffering and he wasn’t. When Steve had asked about that, Bruce had just given a good natured shrug and turned back to his microscope.

Even now, eighty years into the future, and Erskine’s perfected serum in Steve’s veins was still a scientific bafflement. 

That didn’t bother him at all, but he did wish he could do something for Bucky right now. Between the fever, the chills, the runny nose and the coughing fits, his pal was one sad (and snotty) sight.

And Bucky wasn’t helping it any, bundled up how he was with only half his face visible and his hair in a tousled mess that didn’t quite cover the glares aimed Sam’s way. 

“Course it is,” Sam snorted, all too amused at Bucky’s situation. “Superbug for the superboy.”

“Yeah, why dontcha come over here and say that?” Bucky croaked. “Let me sneeze on you a coupla times, see how you handle it.”

“Hey man, no worries for me, I got my flu shot already. Superbug strains and all.” He flashed Bucky a cocky grin before hoisting himself off the sofa and heading into the kitchen to start rummaging through their fridge. “You guys got any left-over roast chicken in here?” He called out before snorting to himself. “What the hell am I saying, leftovers in this place, yeah right.” He grabbed a couple of things from the fridge before abandoning it for the pantry. That, thankfully, was better stocked - the Brooklyn boys each had a ridiculous sweet tooth, but when it came to foodstuffs they weren’t big on a lot of the over-processed and refined stuff that crowded most people’s cupboards.

Of course, Sam couldn’t stop a shudder when he saw the box of bran cereal. They could at least shoot for Corn Flakes, man. Some goddamn Rice Krispies, Cheerios even. 

Sam stashed that thought away and went back to what he’d been doing - terrible breakfast options could be dealt with later, when Barnes wasn’t acting like he was steps from death’s door all because of a flu.

Steve stepped into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and gave Sam a quizzical look at the odds and ends he was piling up on the counter.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam said, barely looking up from his phone. “Go deal with the grandpa in the livin’ room, before he suffocates himself in those blankets.”

“I’m not gonna suffocate!” Bucky half snarled in their direction, before flailing with his blankets enough to get his hand free again and go groping for the remote. And the nearby, nearly depleted, box of tissues.

“Whatever you say, man.” Sam half grinned as he set his phone down on the counter and got to work, shooing Steve out with a wave of his hand. 

Bucky grit his teeth and blew his nose as loudly and obnoxiously as he could in response. 

“Really Buck?” Steve sighed, unphased by Bucky’s glare from over his tissue as he dabbed at his still running nose. “Here, drink.” He held the glass out as Sam started clattering around in the kitchen.

“Not thirsty,” Bucky bit out, shooting yet another dirty look Sam’s way. “Can you keep it down in there?”

“Jesus Buck,” Steve rolled his eyes and pushed the glass at him harder. “Would ya quit with the bellyaching already.”

“Rich comin’ from you, Stevie,” Bucky croaked. “Or you tellin’ me you don’t remember what you were like every time you got laid up sick back in the day. Y’know I’m meant to be the one with the memory problems around here.”

There was a bark of laughter from the kitchen and Steve’s exasperated gaze turned that way. Sam gave a shrug. “Must be that old age starting to catch up with him.” he teased. “You know they say the memory’s what goes first don’t you Rogers? Gonna have to start keeping a cane on standby next. Lord knows your wardrobes already there.”

“Real funny, the pair of you,” Steve groaned, but he was at least rewarded by Bucky giving something that kind of looked like a smile and taking the glass of water.

“Well y’are acting like a fuddy duddy,” Bucky snickered, before breaking off into a harsh coughing fit, bad enough it sounded like his lungs were going to come flying out at any second.

“See what happens when you make fun of me?” Steve said, dropping himself onto the sofa beside Bucky. 

“I start turnin’ into a seal?” Bucky rasped, sucking in air before he drowned the water to try and loosen up his throat. 

Steve just stole the remote from him in response and switched on a baseball game, which just made Bucky groan all over again.

“Come on Stevie, I’m already in enough pain here!” He gestured at the TV.

“Yep, and you’re gonna keep bein’ that way til ya quit being a pain in my ass.”

Bucky let out a huff and scooped his blankets up around him better, completely reforming his bulky blanket burrito. 

There was nothing but the sounds of the games and the occasional clunk from Sam in the kitchen for a few minutes, before Bucky shifted his shoulders and sat up to look past Steve. “What’s he doin’ in there?”

“Sam?” Steve’s head turned for half a second before he focused back in on the game. “Dunno. You can try asking him yourself.” 

Steve couldn’t quite stop his lips twitching in amusement as Bucky settled again, grumbling under his breath as he did. Sam and Bucky had never quite managed to get along, and honestly Steve was almost thankful for it - the few times they did start riffing off each other, Steve was the one who suffered.

The minutes ticked by quietly, and when Steve glanced Bucky’s way next he was slumped to the side, his breath slow in sleep. He let the peace reign for another two innings before, gently as he could, getting to his feet and muting it.

“How’s it going?” He asked Sam as he entered the kitchen. “Can’t believe you’re cooking for him,” he noted, taking a peek at the pot bubbling on the stove. “After everything...didn’t think you’d want to be that nice to him.”

“Man’s a pain in my ass,” Sam said, leaning against the counter with arms crossed over his chest. “But pain in my ass or not, guy’s suffering. What kind of hero that make me if I don’t do what I can to help right?”

“Makes you a better man than most,” Steve said. “He’s sleeping now, at least. First bit of real quiet I’ve got from his coughing in a few days.” He paused and shook his head. “Don’t know how he managed to deal with it from me for so long.”

Sam snorted. “You? Roger’s, you wanna try and tell me you were sitting around feeling sorry for yourself when you were sick? Man, I’m not buying it.” 

“Cause it’s a damn dirty lie.” Bucky’s voice carried over from the couch as he glared at them. “You wanna keep it down? Some of us are sick you know.”

“Yeah yeah, we know,” Sam mumbled, turning back to the pot to stir it’s contents. “Lucky for you, I got the next best thing to a cure right here.” With the lid off, the scent started wafting out and Steve’s stomach gave a loud gurgle. “Well, I’ll take that as the first endorsement,” Sam laughed, ladelling the concoction into bowls. He took the first over to Bucky, holding it out.

“What is it?” Bucky asked, narrowing his eyes at the bowl suspiciously. 

“Good ol’ chicken soup,” Sam smiled. “Just like ma still makes.”

“You didn’t poison it right?”

“Tempting,” Sam said dryly. “But no. Man, my ma would have my hide if I messed around with her chicken soup recipe like that.”

Bucky held out for another few seconds before the clack of a spoon caught their attention. They both stared until Steve looked up from the bowl he’d been inhaling. He wiped his mouth with a guilty smile. “It’s real good, Sam. Thanks.”

With Steve’s seal of approval, Bucky took the bowl and cautiously took a spoonful. It was only a matter of minutes before the bowl was drained dry of all but a few small drops. 

“Let me guess, feeling better already?” Sam asked smugly.

He got one more glare from Bucky before the blanket burrito was loosened and he held up the bowl. 

“Feel better if you got me another bowl.”


End file.
